


Worth Living For

by willowwand



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Written Pre-Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 08:05:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7040101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowwand/pseuds/willowwand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As he, Harry, and Hermione plan their next move to defeat Voldemort, Ron has a heart-to-heart discussion with his father about his future. </p>
<p>First published on the now-defunct R/Hr (Romione) site Checkmated on January 28, 2007 for the Movie Quote Challenge (hence the Don Juan Demarco quote within). </p>
<p>Written before the release of Deathly Hallows, therefore it only follows canon through Half-Blood Prince.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth Living For

**“There are only four questions of value in life. What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for, and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is the same: only love.” _Don Juan DeMarco_**

*~*

Ron closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the fire crackling in the fireplace wash over him. He was stretched out on the floor in front of the battered old settee, willing himself to sleep, to rest.  His mind, unfortunately, had other plans. He’d heard Harry vaguely when he mumbled ‘goodnight’ and went off to bed early –very early, as it was only nine o’clock. It wouldn’t be long before they were off again. They couldn’t afford to waste any more time, and rest was something they desperately needed.

 

They had just returned from Ireland, where they tracked Slytherin’s locket to some dodgy pawnbroker’s in Ballymun after they had learned that Mundungus Fletcher sold it to some bloke in Knockturn Alley. Getting it back hadn’t been a treat. Even after they’d given the beefy man behind the counter nearly every Galleon they had, he still refused to give them the locket. If it hadn’t been for Harry’s quick reflexes and their now-extensive knowledge of curses, things might have been far worse.

 

Slightly more battered than when they had arrived, they had stopped at a small inn just outside of Dublin to get a bite to eat, and perhaps get a few hours of rest before heading to Hogwarts. Now that all the Horcruxes, save Voldemort’s snake, had been found and destroyed, Harry was determined to end this as soon as possible. They would go back to Hogwarts and talk to Professor McGonagall, do research, anything to determine where Voldemort was holed up.

 

At the inn, they had hungrily devoured a breakfast of black and white puddings, eggs, and bacon rashers while Hermione looked through a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ someone had left on the table. Ron had just swallowed a mouthful of fried egg when Hermione had let out a gasp and dropped her empty teacup onto the wooden table with a heavy thud. Immediately, he felt his heart plummet to the depths of his stomach. With shaking hands, she lowered the newspaper and looked fearfully at Ron and Harry.

 

Sybil Trelawney had disappeared from Hogwarts.

 

The few details that were included in the article were fuzzy, as was to be expected from the reporting of the _Prophet_. The article was buried a few pages back, not placing much importance on the disappearance of the Hogwarts professor. No living person outside the three of them, however, knew the true significance of this. No one, but Snape … and now Voldemort. Harry, Ron and Hermione had sunk into a horrified silence, trying desperately not to think of the means that Voldemort would go to in order to extract the exact wording of the prophecy from her. There was no doubt in their minds that he could, and when he did, it was only a matter of time before things got ugly. Knowing that Harry was the only one who could kill him meant Voldemort could walk right into the Ministry and take over. The death and destruction that would follow would be unimaginable. In his mind, he’d be invincible.

 

The _Prophet_ had reported that Hogwarts was closing its doors indefinitely, as Headmistress McGonagall could no longer ensure the safety of the students or staff. Since Harry urgently needed to talk with Professor McGonagall, they decided the best way to do it was to contact the Order. So, they decided to head back to the Burrow for a few days.

 

Ron stared into the fire, recalling how happy his mother had been to see the three of them arrive. They were too weary with the burden of their newest revelation to resist her fussing. Each of them showered and changed into clean clothes, before sitting down to a large meal. None of them had said much at dinner, and Mrs. Weasley seemed to grow anxious at their silence. It was then that Hermione made a point to slip her hand into Ron’s. It was mostly out of habit, a sign of comfort, but Ron guessed it was also to give his mother something else to think about. Sure enough, he saw a smile cross his mum’s face as she stood to retrieve the bread pudding from the oven. He had shot Hermione a weak smile in return, grateful for the distraction.

 

_She always knows exactly what to do_ , Ron thought as he shifted position on the hearthrug.  He heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up, wondering if Harry needed something. Instead, his father entered the sitting room.

 

“Would you like some company?” Mr. Weasley asked, sitting down on the settee beside where Ron was lounging.

 

“All right,” Ron said quietly. “I’m just waiting for Hermione. She’s helping Mum with the dishes.”

 

Mr. Weasley chuckled. “Well, you might be waiting for a while yet. I think your mother has a lot to talk about with Hermione after that little display at the dinner table.”

 

Ron blushed, but didn’t say anything.

 

“She’s never come out and said it, but I think your mother’s been hoping for this to happen for a while.”

 

“I reckon I had been, as well,” Ron admitted, giving his father a weak smile.

 

Ron pulled himself off the floor and onto the settee, slouching down just enough to rest his head on the cushions. He watched for a few minutes as his father stared, just as he had, into the depths of the fire in the grate.

 

“I talked to Harry just now,” Mr. Weasley said finally.

 

 “Yeah?” Ron felt his stomach churn uncomfortably.

 

“I told him I’d get in touch with Professor McGonagall tomorrow.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Ron felt selfish. He meant it when he told Harry he’d follow him anywhere, that he’d be with him to the end. He still meant it, but sometimes he wished that things had been different for them. Sometimes, when he looked at Hermione, he thought of all the time they’d wasted and he felt a loss. He remembered how it felt the year before when they weren’t speaking. That had been bad enough, but what if something happened and he lost her completely. They might not have a lot of time left, and he wasn’t even sure if she knew how he felt about her, that he loved her.

 

Talking about how he felt wasn’t something that came easily to him. He’d only told two women he loved them in his entire life: his mum and Ginny. Even then, he was slightly ashamed to think that the last time he’d told them was when they’d come to visit him in the hospital wing after he’d been poisoned. Before then, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d told Ginny… probably before he had started at Hogwarts.

 

But there was a world of difference between telling his mum and sister and telling Hermione. Even though he and Hermione had been together for months, things between them were still… delicate. He found himself expecting something to happen that would shatter everything. The more he thought about it, the more he knew that she was exactly what he wanted, and he wanted to be everything she wanted. But this war … it could ruin everything, all his plans.

 

“Is there something on your mind, son?” Mr. Weasley asked, breaking Ron from his thoughts.

 

Ron hesitated. He couldn’t even tell Hermione how he felt, so he wasn’t sure how well he could explain it to his father.

 

“Dad,” he said quietly, staring at the freckles on the back of his hand. “When you … when you were my age, did you think about the future much?”

 

Mr. Weasley had clearly expected a much different sort of question. “Er, yes, I suppose I did. N.E.W.T.s  were approaching, I was looking into the different departments at the Ministry, and I …”

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Ron interrupted. He cast a nervous glance toward the door of the kitchen. Mr. Weasley followed his gaze.

 

“Ah,” he said, clearing his throat. “Well, your mother and I … there was so little happiness afforded to us then with You-Know-Who and his followers gaining power … I, well, I suppose we didn’t see a lot of point in waiting .... Does, er, Hermione know how you feel?”

 

Ron shook his head, fidgeting with a hole in his jumper. “I haven’t spoken to her yet.”

 

Again, Mr. Weasley wore a look of surprise. “But I thought the two of you were …”

 

“We are …,” Ron said softly. “I mean, I haven’t told her that I … you know …”

 

Mr. Weasley nodded his head knowingly. “Well, it isn’t something to be taken lightly, son. In all the world those words hold the most power.”

 

“I know,” Ron said.

 

“So, what’s the problem, then?”

 

Ron hesitated. He knew he couldn’t tell him everything, about what they’d been doing over the last few months, about the Horcruxes, but he needed him to understand. “I want her to know how I feel, but… I know I can’t promise her a future.”

 

“Well, I didn’t think so at first either. I had just secured my job at …” He fell silent at the look on Ron’s face. “That isn’t what you were talking about, is it?”

 

Ron shook his head. “I don’t want to make a promise that I can’t keep.”

 

His father’s eyes softened. “In times like these, none of us can, but it doesn’t mean we give up. We can’t stop living, Ron.”

 

“Don’t you see, Dad? I’m not worrying about dementors or Inferi, or being cornered by a dozen Death Eaters. Er, not exactly. It’s more than that. It’s … we need to see Harry through to the end.”

 

“The end? He can’t possibly … he …” Mr. Weasley fell silent for a moment. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Harry’s going after him.”

 

Ron remained silent, but his father seemed to gather the worst from the grim expression he wore.

  
”But, Ron, you’re only seventeen. How do you expect to kill You-Know-Who when more experienced wizards have been trying for years?”

 

Ron opened and closed his mouth, unsure of whether to confirm to his father what the entire wizarding world already expected. “He’s the only one who can.”

 

Mr. Weasley’s eyes widened. “It’s true then --that prophecy--we all knew it must be, but …”

 

“He needs us.”

 

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

 

“Then this is what you’re worried about,” Mr. Weasley finally said, his face pale. “That you … that you have no future.”

 

Ron ran a hand through his hair. “We need to be there for Harry, but it means that she and I … we can’t fail. Too much is at stake.”

 

“I know, son. I know.”

 

“I mean, she’s Muggle-born. So if Harry doesn’t succeed, she’s in danger anyway,” Ron said. “I can’t let anything happen to her.”

 

His father nodded solemnly. “Son, there are only four questions of value in life. What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for, and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is the same: only love. I know you would die for Hermione, for Harry, for any of us really …”

 

Ron nodded fervently.  _Even Percy, git that he is._

 

“If Hermione is worth dying for,” his father said, placing his hand on Ron’s shoulder, “then tell me, son, is she worth living for?”

 

“Living for?” Ron asked.

 

“We have to have hope, or then what are we fighting for?”

 

Ron stayed quiet for a moment, feeling his face flush. “She’s worth it.”

 

Mr. Weasley smiled kindly. “I figured as much. She’s a wonderful girl and we all love her.”

 

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll talk to her tonight.”

 

“If the two of you decide to, I’ll serve as your Bonder … if you’d like.”

 

Ron nodded. The Betrothal Vow was a very important tradition in the Weasley family, in many old wizarding families, actually. He knew from the countless tea parties his mum and Ginny had forced him to attend as a boy that his parents had eloped just out of Hogwarts, and that his Uncle Bilius was the only one they’d told in advance, as he’d served as their Bonder.

 

“Your mum is going to say you’re too young. To her you’ll always be her little boy. But I know different, you’ve had to grow up before your time … all three of you.” He stopped and let out a heavy sigh. Ron saw his father’s eyes glaze with tears.  “This war … this isn’t the life I wanted for you ... but I’m proud of you, son. Damn proud of you.”

 

“Thanks,” Ron said, feeling his throat tighten.

 

His father smiled. “Well, I’m exhausted. I think I’ll see if your Mum is finished in there and head off to bed. Talk to Hermione and let me know in the morning.”

 

Ron nodded. “Goodnight, Dad.”

 

Mr. Weasley clapped him on the shoulder and stood. “Goodnight, Ron.”

 

He watched his father disappear into the kitchen. A few minutes later, the door swung open again and Hermione entered the room. Ron immediately sat up.

 

“I thought you’d have gone to bed by now,” she said.

 

“I was waiting for you.”

 

She walked over and sat beside him on the settee. Ron put his arm around her and felt his heart swell when she sighed contentedly and rested her head against his chest.

 

“We can’t stay up too late,” she said half-heartedly. “We need rest.”

 

“I’m fine right here,” he said.

 

“Just for a little while, then,” Hermione said, closing her eyes.

 

He trailed his fingers through her curls and let out a shaking breath. “Harry talked to my dad,” he said hesitantly.

 

“Did he?” Hermione asked, and he felt her body tense. “What did Harry tell him?”

 

“We’ll have to ask him. I’m not quite sure what they talked about, but Dad said he’s going to contact McGonagall in the morning.”

 

Hermione didn’t say anything, so Ron just hugged her tightly to him, and savored the feel of her warm body so close to his.

 

“I’m scared,” she said finally, in little more than a whisper.

 

He leaned back to look at her.

 

“Me, too,” he admitted. “And that’s why …”

 

He paused, taking in how tired and drawn she looked. He needed to tell her.

 

“Ron?”

 

He felt his ears begin to burn, and he was sure they had probably turned bright red. “I was talking with my dad.”

 

“You already told me that. He talked to Harry.”

 

He shifted so he could face her. “Well, I talked to him about a few things, actually…. Can I … can I ask you something?”

 

Hermione bit her lip. “Is something wrong?”

 

“No… I just…I wanted to ask you if you, er … have you ever thought about the future?”

 

“The future?” Hermione repeated.

 

“You know, after all this,” he waved his hand vaguely, “is over.”

 

She looked down at her lap sadly and Ron turned away to face the fire again.

 

“I … I suppose I do sometimes,” she said quietly.

 

“Do you ever think about us?”

 

“Us?”

 

Ron glanced up at her. “No more school, right? So I reckon I’ll come and live here, and you’ll probably be with your parents.” He hesitated. “It’s just … it’ll be weird, yeah? I’m used to seeing you everyday. I mean, even last year when we …. Well, I still saw you everyday.”

 

She nodded and took his hand. “It will be strange, yes, but we’ll adjust.”

 

“But I don’t want us to adjust.”

 

“What are you saying, Ron?” Hermione asked, a mixture of fear and anger flashing in her eyes.

 

He took a deep breath. “I know I haven’t said … the thing is… I-I love you …” he stammered out, “and I’m not saying it because I think I should, or because I’m afraid we might … well, because of this whole thing with You-Know-Who ...”

 

“Ron, I …”

 

“I know that we don’t know what’s going to happen,” he said, cutting her off. “But I do know how I feel. If we … make it through this, I reckon I don’t ever want to be without you.”

 

“But, Ron …”

 

Ron’s heart was hammering loud and hard against his ribs. “Marry me?”

 

“What?” Hermione asked breathlessly, her wide eyes shining with tears.

 

“After this is over, I mean,” he said. “I can’t promise you much, but this can be –”

 

“Something to hope for?” she suggested, tears now running freely down her cheeks.

 

He nodded. “If you want to…I know there’s probably a lot of …if you don’t want to …”

 

She threw her arms around him, her tears soaking the front of his t-shirt. “I want to.”

 

“You do?” he said, hardly believing his ears.

 

Hermione raised her head to look at him. “If you’re sure …”

 

“I am.”

 

“I am, too.”

 

He dipped his head and kissed her gently on the mouth, relishing the feel of her soft lips moving against his. As much as he wanted to sit there and kiss her all night, he knew he still needed to ask her about the Vow.

 

“Er, my dad said he’d be our Bonder. You do know about the Betrothal Vow, don’t you?”

 

She nodded. “I read all about it when Bill and Fleur got married last summer. Historically it was created to bond a couple in their intent to marry while the wizard found a job, built a home, and generally proved that he could provide for his bride.”

 

“Sounds perfect for us, yeah?” Ron said, his stomach wriggling uncomfortably at the idea of all he still needed to do.

 

As if reading his mind, she said softly, “You don’t need to prove anything. You’ve always taken care of me. We’ll figure all that out together when the time comes.”

 

He smiled and placed a kiss to the top of her head feeling happier than he had in ages.

 

“Do you think Harry will be okay with it?” she wondered. “I don’t want him to think we aren’t serious about … seeing things through.”

 

Ron let out a deep breath, thinking about what his father had said earlier. “I think he’ll understand. I mean, if we have enough faith in him to follow him and to think he can beat You-Know-Who …”

 

“Honestly, Ron. When are you going to stop that You-Know-Who nonsense?” she chided. “But you’re right. We’re going to win this, aren’t we?”

 

“We have to,” he said.

 

She smiled at him and brushed his fringe from his eyes. “Now, we should really head up to bed.”

 

“All right,” he said reluctantly.

 

He got to his feet and held out a hand to help her up. They walked hand in hand toward the staircase and up to their respective bedrooms. He knew that their lives were uncertain and weren’t likely to get easier any time soon. Quite the contrary, actually. For the first time in months, though, Ron felt something rising up inside him filling him with a sense of purpose and determination. He knew they had to do this, they had to fight, but his father was right. There were things in life that were bigger than his comprehension, things like faith, and friendship, hope … and love. They would fight and they would win, and he’d do it all for her.

 

_Yeah_ , Ron thought as he kissed Hermione goodnight just outside Ginny’s bedroom door. _She’s definitely worth it._


End file.
